


a real life happily ever after

by Cinaed



Series: Days of Donut [5]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Background Relationships, Cats, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Happy Ending, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-27 07:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18734728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinaed/pseuds/Cinaed
Summary: Donut is drinking a pre-lunch wine cooler when the doorbell rings. Donut glances at the clock. His eyebrows rise. “They’re early. I guess Grif drove.” He leans over and presses a kiss to Wash’s cheek. “Bring out the cheese spread while I let them in?”--Post-war, post-Chrovos, everyone settles into life on Chorus.





	a real life happily ever after

**Author's Note:**

> And here's my final Days of Donut fic for Rare Pair Week! Thanks for reading. The fic references Sheila/Lopez and then past Simmons/Donut and Grif/Donut, because surprise, Days of Donut were all set in the same universe. 
> 
> Thanks goes out as always to Aryashi for looking this over for me.

Wash relaxes on the couch and watches Donut try to herd cats.

Right now, Donut’s strategy seems to be picking up two at a time and trying to maneuver an offended third with his foot towards the basement. Wash can already tell it’s not going to work, but he sort of wants to see how many times Donut tries before he realizes that they’ll all escape as soon as Donut opens the door to send down more cats.

“You _could_ help, you know,” Donut says while Thoth squirms and complains in his arms.

Wash grins at him. “I don’t know. You look like you have it handled.” When Donut pouts, he relents. He takes Thoth from Donut, smoothing a hand over Thoth’s scarred ears as the cat grumbles and chews on Wash’s chin. He looks around and does a headcount. Most of the cats have wandered out to see their companions get caught, smugly certain that won’t happen to them. He pitches his voice low and reassuring. “Come on, guys, it’s only for a couple hours while Grif and Simmons visit. You know Simmons doesn’t like you all staring at him when he eats.”  

A few of them twitch their tails, but Chayce yawns.

“You especially,” Wash says, pointing at her.

Eventually, Wash and Donut get them all corralled in the basement. The chorus of protests is muffled by the door, but they’ll all settle down eventually. He and Donut do one last thorough house cleaning, dusting and vacuuming and opening up the windows to let some fresh air inside.

Donut is drinking a pre-lunch wine cooler when the doorbell rings. Donut glances at the clock. His eyebrows rise. “They’re early. I guess Grif drove.” He leans over and presses a kiss to Wash’s cheek. “Bring out the cheese spread while I let them in?”

“Yeah,” Wash says. He sets out the platter as Donut cheerfully welcomes Grif and Simmons inside. He can hear the usual conversation: Simmons complaining about the drive, Grif asking Donut to blink twice if the cats have taken over the house and he and Wash are prisoners, Donut saying how happy he is to see them both.  

Grif enters the living room first. He stops abruptly, squinting around at the space as Simmons almost walks into him. “What did you do, get rid of all your cats?”

“Yeah, Grif, we decided we weren’t cat people after all,” Wash drawls sarcastically. “Wish we’d figured that out before we’d spent the last five years building Colony Cats.”

“Well, that’s gonna screw up Kai’s tourism shit,” Grif says, smirking while he makes a beeline towards the food. “She says your brochure with all the cute cats gets the tourists every time, even the ones who came to look at the Temples.”

Donut picks up his wine cooler. “Oh, how’s Kai? Juggling all those balls?”

Grif gives him a long look, swallowing a mouthful of cheese before he says, “Uh, if you mean is she still kicking ass running her company and the Chorusan Tourism Board, yeah, she is. She says hi.”

“Seriously, where are your cats?” Simmons asks. When Wash glances at him, he’s frowning, hunched over and peering under the couch like he thinks all ten cats are hiding behind it. “Are they okay?”

“They’re in the basement. I thought you’d enjoy a private Wine and Cheese foursome.”

The words hang in the air, and Wash clears his throat. “Try the spread. We had this wine and cheese pairing for the last fundraiser. I think you guys will like it.”

Grif mumbles agreement around the cheese.

“The cheese is actually from Doc’s farm,” Donut says. He sounds proud of Doc’s success.

Honestly Wash is impressed too. When Doc first proposed a commune in an abandoned farming town, Wash would have laid an easy bet on the thing turning into a weird cult. Instead the only thing the commune is producing seems to be delicious food. Reminded that Grif is probably going to eat half of the cheese Doc brought the week before, Wash grabs a couple slices for himself.

Meanwhile Donut finishes off his wine cooler and pours himself a glass of the red. “It’s too bad that he visited last week and missed you guys. I bet he would’ve loved to have seen you two!”

“Oh yeah. That’s just, the timing was just terrible, huh,” Grif says. He exchanges a look with Simmons that Wash pretends not to see. Then genuine enthusiasm touches his face. “And Carolina? She’s coming over tonight?”

“Right, and Sarge and Caboose tomorrow. Unless Caboose’s sister has her baby, in which case, it’ll probably just be Sarge.”

“Oh, yeah, I saw Caboose’s message about that on Basebook.” Simmons frowns. He rubs at his neck and admits, “Man, I can’t keep track of all of his nieces and nephews. There’s like, twelve of them now, right? That feels like a low number, though, considering he has seventeen sisters and most of them are married...”  

“We’ll go with twelve,” Donut says with a shrug.

“We just tend to wait for Caboose to tell us the good news and where to send presents,” Wash says dryly. As much as he loves Caboose and is happy for him that his entire family packed up and moved to Chorus a few years ago, there’s no way Wash is keeping track of every new Caboose kid.

“But how have you guys been?” Donut asks. “Still enjoying that cottage? Not overrun with tourists?” He studies Simmons’ face. His smile widens and he gives an approving nod. “Oh, good. I see that you’ve been following the sun and skin care routine I recommended. No new freckles!”

“Yeah, who knew his pasty ass would actually need sunscreen to survive living on the beach,” Grif says. “What a shocker.” He takes a swig of his wine, but that doesn’t quite hide the fondness in his expression when Simmons gives him the finger.  

“We’re good,” Simmons says. His annoyed look shifts to a small smile. Living on a remote beach on Chorus suits him. He looks relaxed in a way Wash has never seen him before. “Kaikaina was pretty careful about who she sold the other cottages on our beach to. It’s, well, generally quiet.”

Grif nods. “Yeah. Kimball doesn’t understand what retirement means, so she never uses her place. Which is good, because the fishing’s better off her pier.”

“You’re going to get arrested for stealing the former president’s fish,” Simmons says. It has the tone of an old argument, and as Grif rolls his eyes and says, “Only if you snitch on me,” Donut pours himself another glass of wine.  

 

* * *

 

“And _then_ it turns out that Frey was actually a Freya!” Donut says with a giggle. “She’s so adorable. Wash, tell them that she’s the prettiest tortoiseshell.” He’s already gesturing expansively in a way that means he’s tipsy, but when he trips over the last word, Wash knows that he’s well on his way to day drunk.

“She’s beautiful,” he agrees, and slides Donut’s latest glass out of his reach. He opens a water bottle and passes it over. He ignores Donut’s pout. “She’s going to be adopted in a heartbeat, once Caboose finishes socializing her with dogs and kids.”

Simmons clears his throat. He shreds a cracker between his nervous fingers. “Actually, speaking of adoption, we have a friend, you don’t know him, or her! They were thinking about getting a cat--”

Donut practically levitates out of his seat. His eyes go wide. “Oh my god, are you two finally getting a cat?”

Simmons freezes up, but Grif stares back, sticking to the transparent lie. “No, Simmons just said. This is for a friend.”

“Uh huh,” Wash says. “And which friend is that?”  He lets skepticism color his voice. Somehow he was hoping that they could get through one of Grif and Simmons’ visits without crashing headfirst into one of their ridiculous hang-ups about doing anything that might be considered a sign of commitment. The only reason anyone knew they were living in the cottage together was because Kaikaina had told everyone.

“Nobody you know,” Simmons says. “But, um, if they _were_ considering getting a cat, do you have any advice on how to choose the right one? Especially if they’ve never had one before, and don’t want to screw up--”

“Patches would be perfect for you,” Donut says. He turns to Wash, beaming. “Don’t you think so?”

Wash considers it. “Yeah,” he agrees. “She’s laid-back and easygoing. A great cat for first-time cat owners. And she's ready for rehoming if you guys don't need her used to kids or dogs.”

“And has the non-judgiest face, so she won’t hurt Simmons’ feelings!”

Simmons scrunches up his face. “What? God, Donut, I say one of your cats looks like he’s judging the way I eat pasta _one time_ and you--”

“ _And_ Patches is snuggly without being a bed hog, which will be good for you and Grif, because I’m _sure_ you two are still making up for all that lost time.”

“Donut,” Wash says, sensing disaster.

Donut shakes his head. “God, I can’t even imagine pining after someone for that long! Especially when I know exactly what you two were missing out on.” He leans forward and drops his voice to a confiding whisper that manages to reach everyone’s ears. “Simmons is _such_ a good kisser.”

Wash sighs.

Grif’s face goes blank. “What?”

“I said,” Donut says, and then catches himself. He glances between Grif, who’s staring, and Simmons, who’s turning the color of a ripe tomato, and laughs uncomfortably. “Um.” He taps a finger against his lips. “Uh. I said that I bet Simmons is a good kisser! Or maybe you’re a good kisser. Maybe we’re all good kissers?”

Wash should probably intervene somehow, but he doesn’t really see a way to walk things back. He just takes a long sip of Donut’s stolen wine and watches Grif turn slowly and say, “Simmons. Why does Donut think you’re a good kisser?”

“He’s got a very active imagination?” Simmons offers weakly. He wilts under Grif’s incredulous stare. “I, uh-- what happened was-- he-- there were some dreams and those communal showers at Blood Gulch and, uh--”

Grif closes his eyes. His jaw works for a second. He says through gritted teeth, “Simmons. You had a whole fucking meltdown after the Temple because you totally weren’t gay and this was all just alien bullshit. You remember that, right?”

“Yes,” Simmons says. Even his ears are pink now.

“Little hard to buy your big gay crisis when you were fucking Donut at _Blood Gulch_!”

“Technically we didn’t fuck,” Donut offers as Wash finishes off his wine and debates grabbing a whole bottle. He smiles awkwardly when Grif stares at him. “Just to clarify things!”

“Oh yeah, thanks, Donut,” Grif says sarcastically. “So it was just, what, hand jobs and blow jobs? That sure as fuck isn’t gay.”

Simmons stammers, “Well, you see, the-- the, um, Navy--”

“What the fuck?” Grif yells. “I can’t believe you messed around with Donut! _Donut_?”

“Glass houses,” Donut mutters in a singsong voice, still apparently too day drunk to moderate his whispers better. He winces as Simmons squawks, “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

Grif shoots Donut a dirty look. “It was one time.”

“Oh, wait, so you’re yelling at me when you--” Simmons chokes and makes incomprehensible hand gestures that Grif seems to understand because he growls and says, “One fucking time!”

“Yeah, well, maybe it was just one time for me too!”

“Was it?”

Simmons opens his mouth and then freezes up. “Well....”

“Holy fucking shit, Simmons--”

Wash leans over to Donut. “Should we try to say something?”

“I mean, I feel like I’ve said enough?” Donut says with a nervous giggle. They both wince as Simmons’ voice rises to a screech. In the basement a few of the cats wail in sympathy or protest. Donut squints at Grif and Simmons. “And it’s kind of funny to watch. But also sad? But funny?” They watch Grif and Simmons yell at each other for a few more seconds and then Donut adds, “Okay, I’m bored. I _really_ thought they’d be better at communication by now.”

Wash raises an eyebrow. “Really? The only reason they’re together is because they got drunk at our wedding and made out in front of everyone and couldn’t do take-backs or blame it on the Temple. Otherwise I’m pretty sure they’d still--” He stops at a certain gleam in Donut’s eyes. He sighs. Fondness and exasperation fill his chest in equal measure. “Donut. I have a question, and I promise not to get mad if the answer is yes.”

Donut blinks at him. “What’s the question?”

“Did you just let the Simmons thing slip out because you’re still mad about the wedding?”

Donut’s smile becomes fixed on his face. The gleam in his eyes turns to a hot rage. “ _They couldn’t have waited until after our honeymoon?_ ” he hisses. “You know how carefully Kaikaina and I planned the wedding! And then Grif and Simmons making out was all anyone talked about! They stole our big day!”

“So that’s a yes.”

“That’s a sort of?” Donut twists his mouth and shrugs. “I don’t out people, but seriously, I kind of thought they’d discussed me! I discussed them with you!”

Wash sighs at the reminder. “Yeah, after I told you I didn’t want to know.”  

“You said we couldn’t take showers together!” Grif shouts, and the non sequitur is enough to get Wash’s attention.

“It’s a waste of water!” Simmons yells back.

Grif snorts. “We’re both taking a shower at the same time. It’s totally more efficient!”

Simmons rolls his eyes and huffs out a frustrated breath. “We both know we get way too distracted to take efficient showers!”

“Wait,” Grif says suddenly, in a new tone. He squints at Simmons. “Is _Donut_ why you’re so into shower sex--”

“And that’s our cue to leave,” Wash mutters, taking Donut’s arm. Donut’s gone a little pink in the face now, looking torn between pride and discomfort. He doesn’t resist when Wash tugs him towards the front door. “We’ll go visit Sarge, give them some time to clear the air.”

Wash snags the car keys from where they’re hanging by the door. He gets the door open as Simmons asks, sounding almost skeptical, “You really only did it with Donut _once_?” Despite himself, Wash pauses, looking over his shoulder to watch Grif cover his face with his hands and groan.

“I can't believe I thought you were straight for ten fucking years,” Grif says, disgusted.

Wash escapes, pulling Donut behind him. As they get in the car, he studies Donut, trying to gauge his mood. The anger is gone from his eyes, but he could still be seething. He turns on the car and pulls out of the driveway, maneuvering carefully around Grif’s car. “You remember that we got married first, right? And get all our anniversaries first?”

Donut blinks at him, looking puzzled. Then his expression clears and he laughs. “Oh, Wash, I’m not that mad! Slightly peeved, at most!” He leans over and pats Wash’s knee. “That’s so sweet that you were worried, though.” His hand lingers. A different, equally familiar gleam lights his eyes.

Wash sighs, even as a smile twitches at the corner of his mouth. “No.”

“No, what?” Donut asks, all innocence.

“No, I am not being that guy who crashes his car twice because his husband wants to go down on him while he’s driving.”

Donut pouts. “But--”

“No.”

“I really thought you could multitask better,” Donut mutters, but he takes his hand away.

Wash laughs. He keeps one hand on the steering wheel, and reaches out to slide his hand under Donut’s thick hair and squeeze the nape of his neck. “Not when you’re involved. You get my whole attention.”

Donut’s cheeks flush a little. A sly smile lights his face. “We could pull over and park,” he suggests.

Wash pretends to think about it. He strokes Donut’s neck and then drops his hand back to the wheel. “We could.”

“Wash,” Donut says, his name like a caress. “Sarge isn’t expecting us. We can take all the time we want.”

Wash lets him sweat for another second and then says mildly, “There’s a thicket about two miles further that can afford some privacy.”

“Oh,” Donut says, lighting up. He makes a move, like he’s going to touch Wash’s knee again, and then visibly restrains himself. That doesn’t stop him from licking his lips and saying, low and warm, “I could kiss you.”

Wash grips the wheel a little more tightly. “Two miles.”

 

* * *

 

Donut’s combing a hand through his mussed hair as they pull into Sarge’s driveway. He pauses and then leans forward as far as his seat-belt will allow. “Is that _Lopez_?” he asks, sounding equally shocked and delighted. “Sarge didn’t tell me he and Sheila were back!” He’s out the passenger door before Wash even has the car in park.

Wash follows more slowly, watching Donut embrace Lopez.

“Good afternoon, Agent Washington!” Sheila says from the laptop on Sarge’s porch.

Wash represses the awkward twitch he always has at her voice, close enough to F.I.L.S.S.’s to weird him out. She sounds genuinely pleased to see him, like she has during every encounter since Lopez returned from his mysterious quest with her uploaded into a computer. His smile feels a little forced. “Hi, Sheila. You and Lopez enjoy your trip?”

“Yes, we enjoyed it very much, thank you for asking. Now we finally have the supplies Sarge needs to build my robot body! I am _very_ excited.”

“Well, congratulations,” Wash says.

His smile comes easier as Sarge emerges from the house, shirt stained with oil, and says, “Washington! When I’m done building Sheila her body, I want your opinion on Mephistopheles. That wily bastard evaded another one of my traps last night. He’s truly a worthy foe!”

“Wow, sounds like it,” Wash says, managing to keep his voice noncommittal.

Sarge hadn’t taken retirement well. Then he discovered Wash and Donut’s plan to work with the feral cat colonies that had sprung up during the civil war. Now Sarge was an important member of the nonprofit, though he mostly focused on the T of TNR (Trap-Neuter-Return) aspect of the cat rescue. Wash notes the name. If Mephistopheles, a feral tom who rules a local colony, goes the way of Lucifer and Eve, in three months he’ll be a part of Sarge’s household and a complete lap cat.

As though summoned, Lucifer stalks out of the house, gives Wash a baleful look and then flops across Sarge’s boots. Sarge bends a little, stroking the cat’s white silky fur as he says, “Heh, Carolina says we should just track him down and use a stun gun, but that would be an option of last resort! I don’t want to demean such a magnificent enemy!”  

“We’ll figure it out,” Wash assures him, and then looks over as Donut says his name.

“Can you remind me tonight to tell Grif and Simmons about the reunion? Tucker promised he could get away from his diplomatic duties and maybe even bring Junior too if we get potential dates from everyone.”

“Yeah,” Wash says. There’s a niggling thought in his head. There’s something about tonight that he should remember.  

Donut claps his hands. “And we can also make it a party to celebrate Sheila getting a body!”

“Thank you, Donut. That’s so thoughtful,” Sheila says, sounding pleased. “I will look forward to that, and to the girl’s night out Kaikaina and Agent Carolina have planned once Sarge’s work is complete.”

Now Wash remembers. “Huh. Donut? We invited Carolina over, didn’t we?”

“Yes! We-- oh.” Donut draws out the final word, his eyes widening. “We should probably go back home and clean up the mess we made earlier.”

Wash knows he means that they should check in on Grif and Simmons, but he also knows how it sounds out of context. He’s not surprised by Sarge’s gusty sigh and half-fond, half-resigned, “You’ll never change, will you, son?”

As Donut blinks, confused, Lopez mutters, “¿Tenemos que ir a la reunión? No me gusta ninguna de estas personas.” _Do we have to go to the reunion? I don't like any of these people._

“You’re so funny, Lopez,” Sheila says warmly. “Of course we’re going to the reunion! These people are your family!”

“Aw, we love you too, Lopez,” Donut says, beaming.

“La única razón por la que sé que no estoy en el infierno es porque estás aquí conmigo.” _The only reason I know I'm not in Hell is because you're here with me._

Sheila giggles. “You’re so sweet,” she says as Wash and Donut get back in their car.

 

* * *

 

Carolina’s sitting on the hood of her car when they pull up. She has her phone in her hand and a look on her face that has Wash wincing an apology even before she says slowly, “So, Grif and Simmons are here.”

“Why are you still outside? Are they still fighting?” Donut asks, frowning in concern.

“No,” Carolina says. She laughs dryly. “No, I’d say they’d moved on to making up.”

“Oh, good,” Donut says. Wash sees the second what Carolina means registers because Donut looks startled, then speculative, and then sympathetic. “Oh, whoops! Guess we should’ve texted you, huh?”

“Guess so,” Carolina says, but her irritation is already fading as she hops down from the hood and touches Wash’s arm. “Where were you two?”

“Visiting Sarge. Lopez and Sheila are back!”

“Are they? Good.” Carolina shoots Wash a wry look. “Did he tell you about Mephistopheles?”

“Yeah. Did you really suggest using a stun gun?”

Carolina grins. “I wasn’t serious. But you should’ve seen Sarge’s face.”

“I wish I had. So I hear you and Kaikaina are taking Sheila out for a girl’s night once she has a body,” Wash says as they all head to the front door. “Please tell me all about it when it happens.”

“I don’t know,” Carolina says, mock-grave. “I’m pretty sure we have to swear a sacred vow not to snitch to any men about girl’s night before it happens. And you know what Kaikaina says: snitches get stitches. Can’t risk it.”

Wash sighs. He tries to keep a straight face, but he grins as he says, “Hey, I had to ask.”

“Um, hi!” Simmons says, his voice slightly squeaky. He and Grif are sitting on the couch with the middle cushion empty between them. The earlier tension is gone. Now embarrassment fills the air. They look like teenagers who’ve been caught making out, instead of grown men who’ve been caught making out. Simmons is still blushing, and he’s avoiding Carolina’s eyes.

“Please tell me you have whisky,” Carolina says. She makes a beeline towards the kitchen.

“There’s a bottle just for you and Grif on the counter,” Wash calls after her.

When he looks back, Donut’s biting his lip, looking unusually hesitant as he glances between Grif and Simmons. Donut sighs and squares his shoulders. “Grif, Simmons, I wanted to apologize. I didn’t mean to--”

Grif waves a dismissive hand. “Save it, dude.”

Donut blinks. “But--”

“It’s water under the bridge,” Simmons agrees quickly. Then he frowns. “Wait, where did you two go?”

Donut glances between them one more time, and then his shoulders loosen when he realizes that Grif and Simmons aren’t angry with him. “Oh, we went to see Sarge. Lopez and Sheila were there!”  

Grif smirks. “So you ditched us and ran off to Sarge’s. Not very good hosts, are you?”

“Um, it’s called giving your guests space and some privacy, Grif,” Donut says, crossing his arms with a huff. “Wash and I were being _amazing_ hosts.”

“Except for that one thing,” Grif says blandly.

Donut sighs. “Except for that one thing.” He nods towards the now-empty platter. “Well, at least you certainly enjoyed that spread!”

Wash steps up, placing a hand on Donut’s back. He feels Donut relax under his touch. “We should feed the cats before we sit down to dinner,” he says. “I had some thoughts on how to get the food downstairs without a reenactment of The Great Escape.”

“Oh, really?” Donut looks intrigued.

Wash’s plan, which involves saran-wrapped bowls of cat food and one box to carry them in, is a partial failure. He gets the box and the food down into the basement and is only mildly chewed on by Thoth as he sets out the meals. When he gets back upstairs, though, he sees there’s been at least two breakouts.

Louisa is perched in her favorite window, deigning to let Carolina pet her.

Patches has stretched herself out on the middle couch cushion, her tail in Grif’s lap and her head nestled on Simmons’ knee. Wash can hear her purring from across the room as Simmons tentatively scratches her under her chin.

Donut has his hands clasped to his mouth. His eyes are bright. “I told you that Patches would be perfect,” he whispers, like if he talks too loudly he’ll break the spell Patches has clearly cast on their friends.

Grif snorts. “Patches is a dumbass name for a cat.”

Donut frowns. “Well, you can’t change it, Grif. It’s her name! You’ll give her an identity crisis.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not a thing,” Grif says.

“Yeah, I think w-- our friend will change her name,” Simmons adds. He hasn’t stopped petting Patches. “Maybe call her Ann.”

“Ann?”

“She’s patchwork, sort of like Raggedy Ann.” Simmons, seeing the sea of blank faces, sighs. “A classic childhood character from the 20th century.”

“Ugh, no one knows what that is except you,” Grif mutters. “Nerd.”

“Children’s media is a fascinating historical subject, Grif--”

Wash sees Donut coming from the corner of his eye, and doesn’t move as Donut wraps his arms around him and rests his chin on Wash’s shoulder.

“They have fifteen minutes to argue over names and then I give up any attempt to be a good host and start dinner without them,” Donut says. He makes a quiet, contented sound as Wash strokes his hair. “Love you,” he adds in that easy, matter-of-fact way he does.

It’s easy, too, for Wash to say, “Yeah, love you too.” So much of this is easy with Donut, amid all the tenderness and constant surprises. Wash's learned not to second-guess it. He curls his fingers in Donut’s hair and keeps him close.

Grif groans. “You guys are such saps.”

Sounding amused, Carolina says from where she’s leaning against the window, “Big talk coming from the guy holding Simmons’ hand.”

“Et tu, Carolina?” Grif says, giving her a betrayed look as Donut laughs.

Wash smiles, Donut warm against his back.


End file.
